Onyx
by Lumiere de Venise
Summary: Blackfire hates purple. (Kid!Blackfire. Angst. Sad. Three-part story.)


**Prompt: Purple.**

**_(Expect Chapter 2 of this in the near future.)_**

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Blackfire **hates** purple. She detests it severely—light purple, normal purple, dark dark _dark_ purple...Any type of purple is atrocious to her.

Mother, father, sister, and brother all bore ginger-locks and greenish orbs, and yet Blackfire is the only one with purple locks so dark they could be mistaken for the night sky, along with purple eyes that shine anywhere.

Whenever it is time for dinner and she sits between her mother and her sister, Blackfire's hair makes her to look like a flamerblug among snerhghogs.

During trips around the noble neighborhoods, she looks as if she's a prisoner for the families of the richest knights than the heiress that'll one day rule over them.

When there's family pictures and a relative is muttering_ "Was she a bastard child?"_ and Blackfire has to smile (and try not to turn around and scream _"stop talking about me like I can't hear and as if I have no feelings"_) for the calsblorg as it takes the pretty picture.

She wishes she could use Tamaranean fruits to dye her hair into a reddish shade, and maybe find a crystal that'll give her eyes the greenest look, but mother and father always tells her that there's nothing wrong with it.

Her parents tell her she can still rule their people even though she has such a unique hairstyle and "lovely" looking eyes, but if that's so, why do they shake their head and sigh when she's combing her hair or admiring herself into the mirror?

Why do they not allow her to be like everyone else? Why do they say she's special but then tell the servants to keep an eye on her? Why do they not help Blackfire when she stumbles on her studies and her future mates complain about her hair choice and eye-color?

Why have they personally started teaching Starfire the steps and goals and duties of a future queen that, for Blackfire, they had simply gotten teachers who whispered things like _"Starfire should be the heiress," _and_ "Blackfire, you lack the grace of a heiress!"_

_Why are they personally teaching Starfire to be the queen and not on being the duchess in the first place?_

Blackfire did nothing to be faced with the possibility of being replaced. Although she tore up Wildfire's teddy-bears in half and ripped apart the heads of Starfire's dolls, Blackfire is innocent.

Although Blackfire spits on all the necklaces and flowers and rings and dresses her friends and relatives give her on the day of the 11th annual date of her birth, Blackfire is innocent.

Although Blackfire gets reprimanded for writing _"I am nothing I am nothing I am nothing" _on the mirrors she once said that the maids and butlers whispered around and wrote on her mirrors, Blackfire is innocent.

Although Blackfire insults any relative that dares to call her a beauty and a gem and her annoying parents say that the "bastard child" she thinks everyone calls her is just her being paranoid, Blackfire is innocent.

Although one day her mother and father tell her that the embarrassment she has for her hair and eyes and her belief that Starfire will be given the throne over Blackfire is all in her head, Blackfire is innocent.

Blackfire is impeccable. Blackfire is unblemished. Blackfire is unmarred. She's not delusional, nor is she imagining the taunts and the taunts and the taunts and the taunts.

She isn't seeing what she wants to see. She isn't hearing what she wants to hear.

Blackfire is telling the truth about her people that, with how Tamaraneans give out those trademark wide smiles and glittery eyes, is hidden from the naked eye. There's nothing delusional about that.

Blackfire isn't delusional. She isn't making this all up. She is not at all imagining them laughing and laughing _and laughing and laughing and laughing._

The mirrors in her room agree with her, and really, despite how they mock her, the shattered and constantly replaced glass was one of the few things that understood her sorrow. Her pain. Her misery.

The glass of her mirror always chant to her that mother and father don't love her, her sister and brother fear her, her relatives pity her, her friends are either bought or just interested in the benefits of being associated with a future queen, and that the civilian people of her planet spread rumors about her.

Blackfire's hair also agrees. It likes to tell Blackfire, _"Just dye me or cut me already,"_ and it's surprising that Blackfire hasn't done just that already.

Blackfire's eyes are silent, but the way they water up and work together with her brain to remind her of the many times she's sure it was her parents and relatives and "friends" insulting or pitting her, Blackfire knows she is not crazy—

She does know, however, that she hates purple. All shades of purple, from lilac to violet to eggplant, are terrible. Merciless. A sign of royalty and yet a sign of how poor her spirit is.

A embodiment of the obstacles and yet the fate of who she is to become. A reflection of herself on what she is too much of.

Since she was eleven years old, Blackfire has hated purple. _Hatedhatedhated**hated** it._

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End file.
